Tours of the Black Clock

142

THE GERMAN WHO RUNS the kitchen is constantly harassing us about the room and our work. Once, in the dead of winter, before a table of soldiers, he fires me and orders the old man and me to vacate the premises by nightfall. When night comes around, however, as I’m sitting there in the room trying to figure out what we’re going to do next, there’s a knock on the door and it’s the German; he seems very strange. He says that he’s changed his mind and we can stay if we want; the next day I’m back to the dishes. By the end of winter, I’m trying to figure out how to get the two of us out of Europe altogether. The captain of a steamer docked in Marseilles happens to come through one day and discreetly I take him aside and ask if we can ship out with him the next time he leaves. We haven’t any money to speak of, I tell him, but perhaps we can work off the fare. He laughs in my face. But the next day he comes back to the restaurant; he seems to have returned for no reason other than to speak with me, though while he’s at it he orders lunch. His demeanor has changed completely since the day before, though this isn’t to say he’s friendly; he says he’s got a pal sailing for Mexico out of Wyndeaux, a small seaport on the western coast of France. I can leave that way if I choose, the captain says, but I have to take the old man with me. That’s what he says. “You have to take the old man with you.” Then he gives me two train tickets. I’m so surprised that all I can tell him, straight out, is that I’m not so sure we can get as far as Wyndeaux, the old man and I. Complications with the authorities, I blurt. The captain says, Oh I don’t think you’ll have any problem. He wipes his mouth with his napkin, and gets up and leaves, half his lunch still on the plate.